


Whatever You Want Is Whatever I Want

by sephirothflame



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sephirothflame/pseuds/sephirothflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting married is the natural progression of things, even for Brad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever You Want Is Whatever I Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Polarstern (Gelaecter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelaecter/gifts).



They get married in a courthouse on a Thursday afternoon. It’s a nondenominational wedding with a beach themed backdrop and the Justice of the Peace is wearing an ugly Christmas sweater vest. Ray’s jeans have shredded hems from where he’s walked on them and Brad is wearing his favorite battered sandals and plaid shorts.

They didn’t write their own vows and they don’t exchange rings, but Brad consents to a moment of PDA for a chaste kiss. He rolls his eyes when Ray flips Kocher the bird when he starts pretending to gag, but his hand rests on the small of Ray’s back even after the JoP is done speaking.

“This is the gayest wedding I’ve ever been to,” Poke tells them, but he’s grinning as they make their way out of the courthouse.

“No fucking kidding,” Brad says, casually. He leans against the side of his Jeep and watches Ray light up a cigarette with a fond smile. “You still up for sixty cent wings and dollar pitchers?”

“Hell yeah,” Poke says, and Kocher makes a noise of agreement. “As long as you’re paying.”

Walt bums a smoke off of Ray, and he sticks around with them while it burns down. “Congratulations,” he tells them, a soft smile on his face, and Brad doesn’t even pretend to get jealous when Ray drags Walt in to press sloppy kisses to his face.

Their moms are going to kill them, but Brad doesn’t have it in him to care.

 

* * *

 

Ray tastes like spicy garlic wings and cheap beer, eager for sloppy kisses and mindless frottage. They’re barely back home before Ray is stripping and walking backwards, tugging Brad towards their bedroom. He trips over his own feet and their teeth clack and maybe they’re a little more drunk than they should be, but they fit together perfectly despite it.

Brad cups Ray’s jaw, slowing down the kiss, and Ray doesn’t fight it. He lets Brad set the pace, content to stretch across the bed languidly and spread his thighs wide as Brad slots himself between them. It’s not their first time and it’s far from magical, but it’s exactly what they both need right now.

They fall apart together, breathless and desperate, and they curl into each other after and trade lazy kisses.

“I love you,” Brad whispers, his lips barely brushing against Ray’s own. Their noses bump, and he smiles despite his exhaustion. “Thank you.”

“Dumbass,” Ray says, smiling. “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

“We should get matching tattoos,” Ray says over breakfast, dropping scrambled eggs in front of Brad and stealing a piece of turkey bacon from his plate.

Brad doesn’t even look up from the newspaper’s daily Sudoku to say, “no.”

“In that case…” Ray pulls out a printout out of his robe pocket and drops it in front of Brad. “Then that’s the wedding band I want. Bitches need to know I’m off the market, now.”

His curiosity gets the best of him, and Brad puts down his pen and picks up the printout. He nearly chokes at the price. Brad isn’t dropping a couple thousand dollars on something he’s not going to be able to wear all of the time. “What did the tattoo look like?”

Ray just grins in response.

 

* * *

 

“ _What do you mean you got married_?” Ray’s mother demands, her voice carrying even over the phone. “ _And you didn’t even invite me or Grams_?”

“She’s handling it better than your mother,” Ray says with a grin and a wink, the phone pressed to his chest as his mother continues to scream through the speaker. He tips his head back, affectionate and dorky, but Brad is happy to lean in and kiss him softly before Ray puts the phone back to his ear. “We had to, momma, Brad is PCSing to England in a few weeks and it’s the only way I could go with – “

“ _ENGLAND_!?”

“I’m going for a run,” Brad decides. He pats Ray’s head and wishes him luck, because judging by the fact his mother is about ten seconds from an aneurism, he’s definitely going to need it.

 

* * *

 

Ray puts in his two weeks at the bookstore and brings home a bottle of Jaeger and mixers. They’re probably getting too old for shots and energy drinks, but Ray is determined to have sex in every room of the house at least one more time before the movers come and pack it all up and Brad is more than happy to consent to it.

They start in the office and move to the laundry room because Ray’s heard too many stories about the vibrations of the washing machine and end up in bed not long before midnight. They’re exhausted, but there’s a thrum of energy through them, static touches and kisses and this time Brad can just push into Ray without any prep.

It doesn’t last long, Ray’s legs around Brad’s hips and his fingers clawing at his hair and back, but Brad doesn’t want it to ever end. He presses kisses to Ray’s sweaty chest and mouths words he doesn’t have the energy to say as his orgasm courses through him.

“I know,” Ray whispers, nails digging into sweat slicked skin. “I love you, I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

They get their tattoos three weeks after their wedding day, _12.02.14_ written in simple black ink over the top of their ring fingers. Ray pushed for hearts as well, because they might as well do the gay thing right, but Brad holds his ground and he wins, in the end.

“Now you have to think about me when you jerk off,” Ray says, his finger trailing over the tattoo tenderly. “I bet you’ll rub your come on it, too. You pervert.”

Brad rolls his eyes and says nothing because Ray is probably right, not that Brad will admit it.

Still, he lets Ray convince him that a hand job on the car ride home is the best course of action to celebrate their matching ink, and Brad doesn’t even care if they get pulled over. The idea of their matching tattoos covered in his come might turn him on more than he’ll admit even as Ray’s wrist moves in expert precision to bring him off.

“Pervert,” Ray says after, licking his hand clean. He sucks his ring finger into his mouth and cleans it slowly. He pulls it out with a loud pop and a wicked grin. As soon as they get home, Brad is fucking Ray’s face until he cries. He’s married, not dead, and he’s certainly not going to turn into a gentleman overnight.

 

* * *

 

Brad starts packing the night before the movers show up. Their stuff is getting sent out in two batches, the essentials, and then the big furniture. Some of it Brad doesn’t trust not get damaged if packed by anyone else, though, so he breaks out the boxes and saved newspapers to get started on it on his own.

They can buy new dishes, but his computer parts are the closest things to sacred they have in their lives.

Ray tries to help by sneaking cock rings and vibrators into the box when Brad isn’t looking, and after a moment’s consideration, he lets them stay. Some things are better left unseen by the people coming to pack their stuff up.

“Is it too late to set up a sex swing in the office?” Ray asks, taking the batteries out of anything he can get his hands on, just in case. “Or I can run and get a collection of blowup sheep to put in the closet.”

“No, Ray,” Brad says. There’s not a lot of conviction in his voice, but he’s pretty sure Ray wasn’t being serious in the first place. “We need that money to buy pizza with to bribe them not to break our things.”

Ray gets a dopey smile on his face, grinning ear to ear. “Our things.”

“Why did we get married in a no fault state?” Brad asks, and he’s not surprised when he has a remote bounce off his chest in response. “Real mature.”

“If you wanted mature, you would have married Nate when you had the chance,” Ray says, sticking his tongue out. “I bet he speaks Latin in bed, the freak.”

Brad just rolls his eyes. If he doesn’t regret his decision to marry Ray yet, he’s starting to think he never will.

 

* * *

 

Walt and Kocher stop by the night before their flight. They bring pizza and beer, and it doesn’t matter that Brad and Ray don’t have any furniture because they’re not too old to sit on the kitchen floor and drink well into the night.

“I’m going to miss your hick ass,” Walt says mournfully. “Who else is going to go see superhero movies with me at midnight and drive three hours to chili cookouts?”

“Not me,” Kocher says, taking a long drag of his beer. “Are you sure you’re not gay, too?”

“If Walt turns out to be gay, I’m going to be pretty pissed,” Ray says. “I could be having beautiful Aryan threesomes every night? I bet he’d even call Brad ‘ _daddy_ ’ in bed. Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Ray, shut the fuck up,” Brad says, but Walt just tosses an empty beer can at Ray and laughs. “Why did I marry you?”

“I ask myself that same question,” Ray says, bumping shoulders with Brad and grinning. “Maybe it’s because you’re a glutton for punishment and I am irresistible?”

Kocher makes gagging noises and throws pizza crusts at them. Brad is going to miss this more than he is willing to admit after they’re gone.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes two flights and twelve hours to touch down at Heathrow, and by the end of it, Brad is ready to crawl into a hotel bed and crash.

They have an escort at the airport, a charter bus there to pick up a dozen Marines and their families, and it’s even worse than the plane ride. Ray’s got jitters like crazy, but the kids on the bus are tired of having to sit still and the screaming has caused Brad’s headache to nosedive into migraine territory without looking back.

“Fuck my life,” Brad says, when Ray squeezes his thigh gently. He wishes he’d remembered to pack his headphones because he doesn’t think they’re ever going to reach the end of this. He rubs his temples idly.

“Would a blowjob help?” Ray asks, voice low. It’s not his usual husky foreplay voice, like he’s actually taking into account there are children nearby for once. “First bathroom we find, I’ll suck you off.”

“I don’t think it will help,” Brad mutters. He lets Ray rest his cheek on his shoulder, tipping his head to press his own to the top of Ray’s silky soft hair. “Maybe when we get to the hotel. I think I’m going to puke. Or kill something. Or both.”

Ray makes a contemplative sound and tangles their fingers together. “Just a little while longer. Then we will get real water that’s not carbonated and you can sleep for a few hours. Pansy.”

“Fuck you,” Brad murmurs, but he appreciates Ray’s efforts, so he presses a kiss to the top of his head in apology.

 

* * *

 

Their temporary billeting is nice. Small, but clean, and its close enough that Brad can walk to work while they try to figure out the car situation. They’re going to have to find one that drives on the other side of the road, and they’re going to have to find a place that’s willing to hire a foul-mouthed Marine spouse.

It’s more complicated than it needs to be, moving across the pond, but it’s the least complicated move Brad’s ever been through in the very same breath. This time, he’s had Ray at his side to keep him company and help him get their shit organized. He’s not alone and there is a lot to be said for that, despite all the headaches that have been brought on regardless.

Still, Brad gets to come home and crawl into bed with Ray, who snores like a chainsaw but kicks off enough heat to keep them both warm through long winter nights. It’s colder in England than in California, but Brad’s been in worse places during the heart of winter, so he really can’t complain. Even if Ray does drool in his sleep.

 

* * *

 

“I got you a present,” Ray says, sitting on the back porch and chain smoking. He’s going stir crazy, but there’s not much for him to do until they find their own place and he gets a job. He jerks his chin towards a poorly wrapped package on the small outdoor table.

“And it’s not even my birthday,” Brad says. He picks up the present and unwraps the present, and he’s not even the least bit surprised to find red fuzzy handcuffs inside. “I take it you found the local sex shop?”

“Oh yeah,” Ray says, wiggling his eyebrows. He stubs his cigarette out and stands up to press smoky kisses to Brad’s lips. “You ready to start our life together proper?”

And how can Brad object to that?

 


End file.
